


ádfaru

by solitariusvirtus



Series: AU! Concepts [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And kings must keep their oaths, Once the kingdoms were many and the kings plentiful, Other, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 11:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13810626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: A gust of wind tugged upon his cloak as his eyes scrutinised the emptiness ahead. There ought be no such breeze in a sealed tomb. Jon held the torch abovehead, a lighthouse amid the swirling mists.Aid has a steep price.





	ádfaru

 

 

 

“The way is barred.” A gust of wind tugged upon his cloak as his eyes scrutinised the emptiness ahead. There ought be no such breeze in a sealed tomb. Jon held the torch abovehead, a lighthouse amid the swirling mists. Yet not even his presence could quell the fear bursting to life within Aegon’s breast. “Until such day as the path may be revealed unto thee, the way is barred.”

Before them the fog swarmed, folding onto itself, until it gathered into what loosely resembled the skeletal remnants of an armoured warrior. Long-dead flesh came to cover naught but smoke and shadow and the giant loomed over them both.

He was no small man himself. Nor was Jon such that he should be cast into shadow by the lesser sons of greater sires. The corpse was lastly crowned by stones of black and blood. “The dominion of death is here supreme.”

Gathering his courage, he ventured forth an answer. “Yet you go without rest.” The old king, bedecked in tattered rags sneered. “Have you no lust for release?” A rumble of laughter poured from all around, almost deafening in its intensity. Aegon shivered, for to hear the dead laughing was to drink deep from the cup of sorrows. The king stepped down upon time-eaten stone. His men appeared, first in trickles, after in waves. “I hold a sword of power and you an oath unfulfilled.”

He should dearly like to know how mere men could stand so tall yet lack the substance needed to lend greatness. “Dusk cometh upon swift wing.” Swords were drawn, spears shaken. And forth with them shook the hall with cries of battle. The dead moved as one.

Drawing upon his sword of flame, he raised the weapon to slash at the first man in his path, a cry upon his lips.

The way was barred.  

 

 

 


End file.
